


mars

by theleonhearted



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Amnesia, Despair, Despairnesia?, Dubious Consent, F/M, High School, Pre-Game(s), Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleonhearted/pseuds/theleonhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a different planet, and she knows he'll follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mars

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers. Read at your own risk.

They meet as they always do: clashing, trapped in an enclosed space with her hands under his shirt and her voice in his ears.

“Enoshima-san,” he says, broken and high and worshipful. It’s too much to hope for anything else, and Enoshima grins with delight.

“Now, now. Didn’t I say you don’t have to be so formal, Nagito-kun?” The gyaru chirps her disdain, waggling a crimson-tipped finger. Komaeda watches intently as she giggles at her own private joke before adopting a melancholy expression. “Oh, how highly you must think of me... to address me like that, even though we’re such _good_ friends.” 

“Forgive me, Enoshima-san.” Komaeda licks his lips and resumes running his hands over her, careful and precise; he drags the palms along thin lines, tracing the yokes of her shoulders, her smooth stomach, her breasts. Always too slow. She corrals him quickly enough, fierce little nails crawling up his body faster and faster until they are molded together, the whole of her body against his.

She pushes his spine into the wall. They’ve made use of the empty classroom before, tucked away in a far-off corner of the school and bereft of any student activity. Even _her_ Komaeda finds solace in calm places, where the air is thick enough to taste on the lips and where voices can't follow. The musk of chalk and unused desks disturbs her nose, but she sighs when Komaeda curls against her quietly and slowly, like ropes, like power. 

She thinks of power, looking into his thin and hungry face; thinks of how Komaeda Nagito looks at her like the rest of that group, with adoring eyes and wicked mouths -- the picture of despair. The thought of it stirs her body, deep-running shivers that prick her skin like Komaeda’s ragged nails. Suddenly the pain isn’t enough, and she sneers and raises her hand and scrapes three long red lines into his white-white scalp. “Nagito-kun,” she giggles softly, “you can do better than _this_ , can’t you--?”

He kisses her then, sloppy, open; it’s a kiss that silences their breathing, leaves them both clutching and scratching and grasping at nothing at all. Kissing Komaeda is like kissing clouds, air-soft and wet and just uncomfortable enough to be pleasurable. The ghost of his lips lingers like a stain, even after they break.  

“Say the words to me,” she whispers suddenly, bringing her tongue over the shell of his ear. “Say those words that I like so much.” Komaeda shivers, his voice shaking a little as he tries to protest. “Say them.”

“I hate you. I do hate you so much...”

Enoshima lets out a noise, a breathy keening sound, and hooks a leg up around the boy’s bony hip. He gasps when she sinks her hand down and takes him in one hand, and she lets the electric vice of her nails sing into him because he’s despairingly beautiful when he thrashes so hopelessly. Komaeda draws his hand under and down her skirt, clumsily working  the fastenings, drawing the tips of his fingers across, again and again. “I don’t hate you, Enoshima-san,” he says softly, pitifully, like something dying. His fingers curl into the band of her panties, achingly slowly, and she moans. “Truthfully, I --”

“Stop going so _slow_ ,” she hisses, and he closes his eyes when her nails scrape across his thin shoulders, snake to his throat and tap against his cheek. 

“I want to savor you,” he breathes, a rushed intake of air; but still he lets one finger slide against her, wet, slow and slow until the tip slicks inside -- a sharp burn. “Beautiful... Enoshima-san is so beautiful.”

She quickens her pace, and her presence strikes them both, wraps them in blazing gold-white; she draws out his strained sighs like beads on a string, cranes her neck to his shoulders and nips at his wasting body -- and oh, she knows just how it’s wasted -- with savage teeth. He rolls his thumb over her clit, scratches just hard enough to force her eyes closed. 

When Enoshima opens her eyes and pulls back, Komaeda’s face looks like the end of the world.

The end always comes at the peak of despair. Komaeda’s neck arches, his cheeks drawn in sharp with the pain-pleasure of her movements, and he comes with a kind of breathless song, sighing into her hair. She pulls him back into her, commands him with a wordless glare -- and he slinks down, wraithlike, bringing his tongue swiftly between her legs. 

Enoshima can see despair in his face, coiled into the swirls of his clouded eyes, perched on the corners of his delicate mouth. She can see the traces of Komaeda Nagito, a sickly boy who had loved hope more than anything else in the world, who now peers up at her reverently as he pleasures her with his tongue and lips and teeth. She writhes, and it only takes another moment -- another press of his tongue inside -- and she comes apart, laughing and shaking without realizing. 

Her laughter startles Komaeda, and when Enoshima opens her eyes again he’s slumped against her body like a wilted flower, his lips forming shapes that she can’t read. She blinks twice, dazed. The bones of his hips bite into her stomach.

“You’re the Despair,” he whispers, over and over, into her neck. A litany, freshly retrieved from a long-wasting memory. She flinches. “Ah, I remember... to let someone like you destroy hope... I promised I’d fight that end, no matter what it took.”

“Oh, Nagito-kun,” she croons. It’s only slightly too hasty. “Your pathetic attempts to cling to hope... it’s so despairing. Cute~!” she appends, and her face lights up: a pristine sculpture. She pulls away from him. A moment, and her hair is smoothed like it’s nothing at all, her skirt righted, lips pursed in a perfect little pout. He stares when she turns back. 

There’s something like memory in the reflection of her eyes in his, a candy-sweet twinkle; and he can hear the words, can feel the world shatter like wrists and violins and so many stars -- knives, fire, men in masks and a single vision of chaos. _I’ll take you as my enemy._ A promise, lost in time. 

_Such a hopeful world as this... it will never fall into despair._

But Enoshima Junko is a different planet.

 _If this despair is what it takes... for the sake of hope, then --_  

She’s a different planet, and he knows he’ll follow.

“I do... hate you,” whispers Komaeda Nagito, but neither of them hears the words.

Enoshima gives him a devastating smile, one that starts with the white points of her teeth in her mouth and goes everywhere at once. She makes sure it’s the most hopeless thing Komaeda has ever seen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, wow, this needs a lot of explanation. It's very dark and very spoilery for both games so be warned ok 
> 
> I have a headcanon wherein Junko, in her love-affair with all things despair, sees Komaeda as the ultimate gateway to despair -- as the embodiment of hope, to bring him to despair would essentially be nirvana for Junko. She employs the same tactics that she does to the other SHSL Despair, with limited success, until over time Komaeda finally falls into her clutches. But given certain exposition in SDR2 Chapter 0 and his reaction to Enoshima's portrait, we know that Komaeda truly hated Junko -- and I believe it's entirely possible that he wanted to prove to her that the ultimate despair can truly be stopped by hope by (drumroll) causing despair.
> 
> Komaeda and Junko have a very strange relationship, even in canon. Even though we know he despises her and her despair, we still see him throw himself in despair's way multiple times in-game (though all for the sake of hope). More strikingly, there is proof that he became part of Junko's despair as seen in Chapter 0: he participated in the partitioning of Junko's dead body, grafting part of her onto his own body. Again, this was done for the sake of hope... or so we can surmise from what he says.
> 
> But hope and despair are two sides of a coin. Really, Junko's grand plot for despair invokes hope, and Komaeda certainly invokes despair in his endeavors. Junko's SHSL Despair are like extensions of her -- or at least, of her grand vision for the world -- and Komaeda is the pinnacle of that vision, as the embodiment of hope. Seeing that hope become despair is enough, at least in my ship-addled head, to form a basis for a kind of ecstasy in someone as twisted as Enoshima Junko. Thus, she relishes in Komaeda's despair. She craves it. 
> 
> And so, she asks him to tell her that he hates her -- something that would have been lost in her quest to conquer his hope. It's a relatively small price, but it still brings Junko despair.
> 
> Because of Komaeda's clarity in speaking of his hatred toward Junko, I would assume that he has moments of lucidity wherein he remembers his original goal and feelings. These are always in conflict with Junko's despair influence. Hence the end of this fic.
> 
> Obviously, this all raises concerns about consent. Since even I'm not sure how much control Komaeda has over his body and thoughts, I can't speak accurately for it; but I can say that the consent on his part is probably dubious at best. I really don't want to trigger anyone, so I put the tag in.
> 
> The things this ship does to me, I swear.


End file.
